


Notepaper: A Narrative Writing Guide

by fireroasted



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: Barbarian Hyejin, F/F, Fanfic with a Purpose, Fluff, Writing Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: Byulyi wants to write a story for Yongsun, but doesn't know where to begin. Why not ask the object of affection herself for a bit of advice?





	Notepaper: A Narrative Writing Guide

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is not a definitive guide to writing. 
> 
> As a writer and teacher, I wanted to create a piece that would help new writers find a place to begin. Even better, a place where new writers and veteran writers can come together to have a dialogue about writing. This is a snapshot into my creative process, an introduction to talking about writing, and the ideas of many people whom I've talked to about writing. It is by no means the only way.
> 
> I don't claim to be the greatest writer who ever lived. I'm just a lover of the craft who has spent way too many hours thinking about it. 
> 
> I hope you'll find this story useful, with just amount of fun mixed in. For me, and many writers out there, fanfics are labours of love. We put countless hours into creating, building, and refining, so your support is very much appreciated!

 

Moon Byulyi wanted to write a book. A fully fleshed, multi-chaptered masterpiece dedicated to the greatest love of her life. She had heard stories of ancient artists creating entire plays, novels, and symphonies, and surely there was nothing more romantic than such dramatic labours of love. She had been writing songs for years, and had this not been such a cliche, she may have considered taking the easy route. But Yongsun deserved so much more than easy.

 

The trouble was...she had no clue where to start.

 

It seemed like a ridiculous idea at first, approaching the object of her mission for advice to fulfill the goals of this exact mission, but it seemed safe to assume that if she knew the rules of the game, then she could play by those rules and blow her mind. And, really, who thought more about writing than Kim Yongsun? The woman who snuck breaks from work just to tweak a couple of sentences a few more times. The woman whose eyes would light at the mention of literature, and whose written worlds could be the source of so much joy and sadness in Byulyi’s life. Byulyi wanted to give her all the worlds if they brought even a fraction of the happiness that Yongsun’s work had given her.

 

"You want me to teach you how to write?" Yongsun looked up from the notebook on her lap. She bit the eraser topping her mechanical pencil to poorly suppress a smile.

 

Byulyi, laying on her back across Yongsun’s bedroom rug, eyes to the ceiling, nodded.

 

"You write all the time, Byul. Why do you look so worried?"

 

Byulyi sat up with a sigh, and dragged herself closer to Yongsun. "Unnie," she whined, leaning into her shoulder, "It's different. I want to write a story this time. Like a book. You know this stuff better than I do. Can you help me? Please?”

 

Yongsun bit her lip. “I don't know. These things are so personal. Maybe you should try it out for yourself first.”

 

“But I want to know how you do it. I want it to be really good. Please, unnie?”

 

“I don't mind,” Yongsun said carefully. She put down her notebook, and poked Byulyi in the arm, “but...I don’t know. There isn’t just _one_ way to do it? I don’t want you to think this is the _only_ way to write, so it feels a little...dangerous?”

 

“Don't worry, unnie. I can think for myself.”

 

Yongsun smiled, and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I know, Byul. I just wanted to be sure.”

 

“I got it, I got it,” Byulyi replied with a chuckle.

 

“You’re gonna be cheeky, aren’t you?” Yongsun said with a grin. When Byulyi stuck the tip of her tongue out, she reached up and ruffled Byulyi's bangs. "Alright then, let's do this!”

 

**PURPOSE**

 

Yongsun pulled Byulyi to her feet and handed her a piece of paper torn from her notebook. "Let's start with the first question you should ask yourself." She pointed her pencil at Byul, who immediately ducked back to avoid her excitement.

 

"Um, what I'm going to write about?" Byulyi tried, easing the pencil out of Yongsun's grip before either or both of them could get hurt.

 

"Nope! Try again!"

 

The pencil found itself between Byulyi's lips this time as she wrinkled her brows, unaware of Yongsun's gaze and the pink across her cheeks. Absentmindedly, she guessed again: "Who my characters are?"

 

Yongsun smiled. "Almost. Before all that, the first questions should be the five W's: who, what, when, where, and how. Especially, who are you writing for, what do you want to achieve, when will you find the time, where do you plan to write, and how you're going to go about it--these are the questions that your brain will subconsciously ask, and it's up to you to answer them."

 

"Okay, that's easy," Byulyi mumbled. "I'm writing for…a friend. I want to write them a story that will make them happy, I'll write after work, and I'll…I don't know if I understand the how."

 

Yongsun skipped forward and stretched her arms out wide. "It's the broooooadest picture of your story. Your vision, I guess? How long will it be? How will it begin, how will it end? What kind of style is it? What genre is it? Will it be one long chapter, or lots of chapters?"

 

"Unniiiie," Byulyi cried, "That's too much! Can't I just write as I go?"

 

"Of course! That's up to you, but you should have some kind of idea in mind. This isn't a drama that goes on forever. Even if it is, they have formulas for that kind of thing. Byul-ah, don’t make that face. It’ll get easier as you find your own voice."

 

Byulyi laid back down and covered her face with the piece of note paper. "I just want to write a story for my friend."

 

Yongsun laughed, and, crossing her legs, took a seat beside her. "I know, but how do you expect to write when you don't know why you're writing?"

 

“I don’t see how that makes a difference.”

 

“It’s about respect,” Yongsun explained. “It’s nice that you want to write for a friend…whoever that lucky person might be…but you also need to write for yourself to some degree. It’s hard work, and if you don’t know why you’re doing it, the result might not end up the way you’d envisioned it, and that might start a cycle of toxic thoughts. You might feel like you’ll never be a good writer or something. I don’t know. It’s different for everyone, but I’ve been there, and it’s not fun. So whatever your reason is, you need to treat your purpose and your work with respect. Writing is an intimate, personal thing, Byul. When you shape it and grow it, it’s like a child. And when you disrespect a child constantly, well, you know.”

 

Byulyi turned to give Yongsun a sheepish smile and her face turned pink. She cocked her head, wondering if she said something wrong. “Sorry if I sounded insensitive, unnie,” she said, “I think I get it though. It’s the same with song writing. And probably any kind of creative thing.”

 

“Oh! No, I’m okay, Byul,” Yongsun said, mirroring Byulyi’s sheepish smile, “I just get really excited about this. Are you sure you want me to teach you all this stuff? I mean, I don’t want to scare you away. It’s a really complicated craft, and I take it seriously. And I get _really_ excited about it.”

 

“Yeah. It’s okay, I like when you get excited—I mean, when you get excited…about…stuff.” Byulyi blushed and closed her eyes to avoid Yongsun’s gaze as she rummaged through her brain for words. “I guess,” she said finally, “you’re more than qualified, unnie. I’ve heard you talk about this kind of thing with Irene-unnie and it always seemed so fascinating. And I like your stories and I guess I…just…I just kind of want to know what your world is like. The way you think and stuff. I don’t know.”

 

Yongsun did not comment on the shades of red blossoming over Byulyi’s face, but she could not stop the grin from spreading across her face. “Well, if you say so then,” she replied. “Just don’t regret it later on.”

 

“I won’t, unnie. It’ll be fun.”

 

“Mmm, I hope so, but no guarantees.” Yongsun pointed a finger to her bottom lip and furrowed her brows. “First things first,” she mumbled, “if we’re going to do this, you need to understand that I’m not perfect. It’s like that old saying, ‘Do as I say and not as I do.’ I’m always learning too, so I don’t want you to come to me tomorrow and call me a hypocrite!”

 

Byulyi laughed and placed a hand over her heart. “You hurt me with your lack of faith, unnie. Believe in your disciple!”

 

“We’ll see! Second thing is that I’m not going to explain any technical stuff. Don’t expect me to go into grammar and word choices and stuff because—”

 

“I already know how to write?”

 

“That’s one reason, yes. You can write words and put them together. But I also think that it’ll come together naturally in your own way once you start thinking about all the other stuff.”

 

Byulyi raised a brow. “What else is there besides writing when you write? All we have to do is find a purpose, respect it, and start writing. Isn’t that what you were saying?”

 

Yongsun rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Maybe we should start from the beginning.”

 

 

**CHARACTERS**

 

"Alright, first thing! We’re going to do something fun," Yongsun said. "Sit up. Sit up, sit up, sit up. Before we can start writing, we will have to create your characters, and then we will go into the setting and plot." She pulled and kneaded and threw Byulyi's arm across her body until the younger woman finally complied with a groan. "Come on, Byul, this is your story. You should be excited!"

 

Byulyi frowned. "I am, but what do you mean ‘before we can start writing’? Can’t all of that stuff just happen as we go?”

 

Yongsun shot her a pointed look. “Am I the teacher, or are you the teacher?”

 

“Aish, this power is going to go to your head, unnie.”

 

“Just sit up,” Yongsun huffed.

 

"Okay, okay," Byul resigned with a sigh. "Let's make our characters. That should be easy. It's like an MMO."

 

Yongsun shook her head. "Making a character isn't just picking a face and a hairstyle and clothes. It can be a part of it, but it's definitely not all of it. Your characters need to feel human, and I've seen the girls you like to make in your MMOs…they do _not_ look human."

 

Byulyi's eyes went wide. "Unnie! I thought you liked my bearskin barbarian."

 

"Realistically, those strips of fur would never support breasts of her size," Yongsun replied, making a face. "She could end up with a lot of back pain. That would be an interesting development in her story though, wouldn't you think?"

 

"I don't know if I want to write about a barbarian with big boobs and back problems. I feel like that would be a very short-lived adventure," Byulyi said with a grin.

 

"I'd read that though."

 

"Me too."

 

They shared a laugh until they forgot what they were laughing about, but continued anyway. As Yongsun wiped a tear from her eye, she was happy to see Byulyi relaxed for the first time that evening. The note paper from the beginning laid forgotten beside them, but Byulyi's hand on her knee was warm and her mind was blank for a brief moment.

 

Byulyi scooted closer so their knees were touching, and Yongsun managed to just catch the barest whiff of her shampoo. "Alright, unnie, let's do this properly,” Byulyi said, leaning into Yongsun’s side. “Let's make some characters!"

 

Yongsun clapped. "Let's pick someone we know in real life. That will be easier."

 

Byulyi thought for a moment, then blushed. "What about us?"

 

"Both of us?"

 

"Yeah. Is that bad?" Byulyi asked, her teeth gently tugging at the edge of her lip.

 

"N-no, of course not. But I don't know if you should write about yourself. I think you will always end up inserting yourself into the story somehow, so it might be more fun to pick someone you kind of know, or think you know. Or even several people you know. It's a better creative exercise, I think. If you want me in your story, then maybe you can write about just me, or me with someone e--"

 

"No!"

 

Yongsun stared. Byulyi turned an even brighter shade of pink. "I-I mean," she stammered, "it's fine. We don't have to write about you. Or me. What about Wheein and Hyejin?"

 

A mischievous smile spread across Yongsun's lips. "They'll kill us."

 

Byulyi shrugged. "That's what they get for being so gross all the time."

 

"Alright good. Pass me the paper, and we can write this down. Thanks. Okay, let’s go with the first thing you said. They're both gross. What does that mean, and why are they like this?"

 

Byulyi handed Yongsun the pencil and made a face. "That's easy. They're always all over each other. They're always holding hands, holding…whatever they can. And they're always sneaking off when they don't think we noticed. Wheein used to be more embarrassed, but now they both have no shame."

 

Yongsun scribbled furiously, the tip of her tongue poking out in deep concentration. "Okay, good. Why is Wheein like this now? What changed?"

 

"I guess Hyejin is persuasive?" Byulyi shrugged. "And, well, there was that time when they fought about it, and I guess in the end, Wheein decided to try and be brave. I guess? I don't really know the details. All I know is that they’re a bit too brave now."

 

"Mmmhmm, good, good. This is a great start. Now who do you want to be your protagonist?"

 

"Both of them?"

 

"Third person limited or third person omniscient?"

 

"Unnie, I don't know what those words mean."

 

Yongsun paused, studied the blank look on Byulyi’s face for a moment, and scribbled two haphazard stick people on the note paper, adding a mole on one, and the slight curve of a dimple on the other. She said, gesturing to her drawings, "There are three points of view: first, second, and third. Most of the time, you'll be writing in first or third. First means that you use 'I' and you're literally in the mind and body of the character. Third means you're watching them from afar, so you'll probably use he or she or they."

 

Byulyi raised a brow. "I've never really thought about this before."

 

"And now you know," Yongsun said, holding two fingers up in a victorious pose. Poking the figure with the mole, she continued, "Let's say you want Hyejin as your protagonist and you want to write a…romance story."

 

Byulyi raised her hand. "Can she be the barbarian? Can we write a fantasy? I get enough Hyejin and Wheein action in my everyday life."

 

Yongsun blinked. "Uh, yeah, sure, why not? Fantasy is a pretty complicated genre but, ah, let's just go with it for now." She quickly added two strips of ragged fur onto the Hyejin's stick figure. "Okay, moving on. If you're writing a first-person story, you're going to get every thought. I don't know about you, but Hyejin is uncensored enough. First-person Barbarian Hyejin would probably have a different pattern of speech, a lot of weird and crazy thoughts, and maybe even a bunch of different tangents in her thinking, so this means that we might potentially have what’s called an unreliable narrator. What she says, might not always reflect what’s happening in the story. For example, let's say our Hyejin has just met Wheein, who is, I don't know, an elf…archer…person. What will she say?"

 

"Holy fucking shit, that's the hottest thing I've ever seen ever, and I can't even handle it right now. She's talking to me but all I want to do is--"

 

"Okay, Byul, calm down. This is going to get graphic really fast."

 

Byulyi chuckled, and poked Hyejin's drawing. "It's Hyejin. Barbarian Hyejin."

 

"You're right. I don't know what I was hoping for," Yongsun said, shaking her head. "Now, while Hyejin is having a hormonal meltdown, what is happening in the world of the story? Even though it's first person, you still need to keep in mind the 'real world,' or else you'll lose track of your own story, especially if you're immersed in a crazy mind like Barbarian Hyejin's. So what is Wheein doing?"

 

"She's probably trying not to freak out because Hyejin is literally panting in front of her, and she's just…I don't know, asking for directions?"

 

Yongsun ripped off another piece of paper and folded it into thirds. In the first box, she scribbled out Wheein's confused face, bordered by erratic question marks. "This," she said, "is the magic of first-person. Everything we see or hear or feel is from Hyejin's point of view. So! When we consider Hyejin's mind versus the 'real world,' you might end up with two disconnected perspectives. Our unreliable narrator can rant as long as she wants about how cute Wheein is, but in reality--"

 

"Unnie! Don’t you dare!"

 

Yongsun threw her hands up defensively. "What? I wasn't going to say anything!"

 

"You were going to doubt Wheepup's cuteness! Hyejin will come out of the sky and slam you into the ground."

 

"It was just an example!" She rolled her eyes at Byulyi's pointed look. "Well, you get the picture. Ready for third-person?"

 

Byulyi nodded.

 

Yongsun scratched out two identical pictures of Wheein and Hyejin standing side by side in each of the remaining two boxes. "These are both third-person," she explained, brushing a finger across the two boxes. "In this one, if you want to write a third-person omniscient story, the narrator will know everyone's thoughts." She drew in thought bubbles above their heads, and filled it in as she spoke. "Let's have Hyejin think…"

 

"What a cutie!" Byulyi offered.  

 

Yongsun sighed, but complied. "And Wheein?"

 

"What a sexy weirdo."

 

"I'm a little worried about the kind of story you want to write, Byul."

 

Byulyi laughed, and took the pencil from Yongsun's hand, their fingers brushing lightly as she did. "I'm guessing this is third-person limited, where we only get one person's thoughts? Maybe Hyejin is thinking, wow, what a beauty!" Byul paused to fill in the thought bubble. "But she can't really figure out what Wheein is thinking, so the reader won't know either. Right, unnie? Unnie?"

 

Yongsun snapped her attention up from Byulyi's finger to her eyes. "Y-yeah," she said, rubbing her forearm, "that's right. So…depending on what you use, you'll…grow your characters quite differently, I think. It depends how much you want your readers to know too, and how much truth you want to give them. Sometimes people might start with a character sketch where you describe the character before you dive into the story. Just so you know how your characters will react, you know? You don’t have to put it all out there right away, but when you have it in your head, it’s easier to withhold the truth and create some suspense."

 

Byulyi paused to let the words sink in before lifting up the pencil to the paper. "I guess,” she murmured, “Hyejin will be...pretty? Kind of intense? She'd be a good warrior too. And smart. She might come off as a crazy person to Wheein, but she maybe she’s just nervous deep down?"

 

Yongsun peered over at Byulyi's short list and smiled. "That's a start. Why don't you put the barbarian behind for a little bit and try to describe Hyejin as you know her."

 

"In real life?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"She's…an amazing singer. She works really hard. Good at housework, and stuff. Takes really good care of you. Would be a really good wife, but she'll bite you if you say it to her face. I guess she can be childish sometimes too, but only because you spoil her, unnie."

 

"I do not!"

 

"Yes you do. More than anybody else. You spoil her rotten."

 

"I spoil you and Wheein too," Yongsun huffed.

 

"It's not the same. You can't deny that you spoil Hyejin a lot more."

 

"Byul-ah, jealousy doesn't look good on you."

 

"W-What? I'm not jealous,” she added hurriedly. “I'm just saying that...that...aish, let's go back to Hyejin. Stop snickering, unnie. You’re distracting me. Okay, she’s, um, she's...really strong and fierce, but she has a soft heart too. She's shy with new people, and she hates doing aegyo and stuff. Doesn’t think she’s cute, so she hides behind all that sexy stuff, but really, she isn’t fooling anybody…Mm, I don't know how to write all of this down," Byulyi said, scratching her head with the top of her pencil eraser.

 

"That’s okay," Yongsun said. "It's up to you. These ideas are all great anyway. Writing it down is just one way of helping you organize who she is as a person in _your_ mind. Since we both know Hyejin, we might have different interpretations.”

 

“That’s true. I don’t spoil her nearly as much.”

 

“Aish, that again. Anyway if you’re clear about what you want, then it’ll help you dig a little deeper. It's more compelling that way, I guess, and it’s easier for people to empathize if she's more human. The key, I find, is to ask a lot of 'why' questions. Why is she shy around new people? Why is she childish sometimes? Why and when do the two different personalities--headstrong and fierce versus vulnerable and kind--kick in? I mean, humans are complicated. Even if she's the kind of human who is really weird around pretty girls and wears nothing but a strip of fur."

 

Byulyi sighed and gently knocked the side of her head against Yongsun’s. “This is impossible, unnie. Like you said, humans are complicated. I don’t think we even know ourselves that well.”

 

Yongsun laughed. “You’re right,” she replied with a shrug. “We don’t. And I think that’s why a lot of us write. Because we want to figure it out, you know? We will probably never go up against a bear in our lives, but Barbarian Hyejin might, and based on the personality traits and the backstory that we give her, we might be able to predict how she will react. What do you think she would do, Byul? And why?”

 

Byulyi pulled back, brow raised. “In the bear situation?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Is Wheein here?”

 

“Ah! Good thinking! Why do you ask?”

 

Byulyi shrugged. “Depending on who’s watching, she would probably react differently. Anyone would, right?”

 

Yongsun flipped the paper over and drew a line down the middle. On the left side, she drew a box with a circle for a head, two smaller circles for ears, and labelled it “bear.” Stick Hyejin and stick Wheein stood off to the side, ready for action. She repeated the bear drawing on the other side of the box, and handed the sheet of paper to Byulyi. “You’re right,” she said, “What do you think Hyejin is going to do with the bear while Wheein is watching?”

 

Byulyi gave this some thought. She scrunched her nose and replied slowly and carefully: “Doesn’t that depend on what the bear is doing as well? On the one hand, if the bear is dangerous, Hyejin might jump in and protect Wheein, but, ah, she might fight the bear anyway to show off. Or maybe she is actually very gentle and the bear is her friend that she rescued when it was a cub. I can see that too. So maybe she wants to impress Wheein with her gentle side, you know? Or maybe Wheein, who is a lost elf, wants to kill the bear because it looks dangerous, but Hyejin steps in because the bear is innocent. That way, Wheein will see her just and brave side, and she’ll know that Hyejin isn’t just about impressing girls. Aish, the more I think about it the more possibilities there seem to be. I don’t know, unnie, there are so many things that can happen in this scene!”

 

Yongsun reached around and threw an arm around Byulyi’s shoulder. “Byul-ah, congratulations,” she said with a prolonged sigh. “Now you’re understanding the struggle of a writer. There _are_ a lot of scenarios that can happen depending on…well, everything. But, you know, the possibilities are finite. There are a _lot_ , but technically, there are only a certain number of possibilities that would make logical sense depending on your preconceived ideas about your character.”

 

“So…in the scenario with Hyejin and the bear, she can’t…suddenly go to space, for example.  Is that what you mean?”

 

“Yeah, that’s it. Unless you can justify it, but I don’t know if you want to go through the logistics of rocket science in this medieval fantasy era just so Hyejin can go to space, you know? You can be creative, of course, but at some point, your readers might be confused, or you might create a bunch of loopholes and you don’t want that. This kind of goes back to purpose too. What are you expecting to achieve with Hyejin going into space?”

 

Byulyi grinned. “Hyejin the sexy space barbarian?”

 

Yongsun playfully slapped her across the shoulder. “Yah! I’m serious!” she cried, though her expression quickly gave way to a wide smile.

 

“Seriously then,” Byulyi said, poking the bear drawing with her pencil, “you’re saying that there are some things that would make no sense for Hyejin to do because of who she is as a barbarian weirdo. Like, while Wheein is watching, she probably won’t…I don’t know, hug the bear for no reason? Ah, but she might if I’d set it up beforehand, wouldn’t she? Like if it’s her pet bear for whatever reason. Because she’s so badass she’d have a pet bear...named Seulgi. Do you think Irene-unnie would be mad?”

 

“Probably,” Yongsun chuckled, “but she’d secretly love it.”

 

“Especially if you throw a collar on, I’m sure.”

 

“Byul-ah!”  

 

But Yongsun gestured for the pencil, which Byulyi quickly placed into her open palm, and drew a collar on the bear anyway. Underneath, she labelled Seulgi’s name. “Happy?”

 

“Not as happy as Irene-unnie would be,” Byulyi snickered. “Wait, let me take a picture and send it to her. Okay...um...sent! Alright, I’m ready. Go on, unnie.”

 

“As I was saying,” Yongsun continued, absentmindedly drawing light circles around the bear, “Previous scenarios might give you extra possibilities. This is why planning and drafts are important, but I won't get into that right now. Maybe, like you said, Hyejin rescued this bear many years ago, so while Wheein was shocked to see the bear, Hyejin would have been excited to embrace an old friend. And, ah, you know, you don’t have to share this information with the reader. This is what I meant by withholding truth. _You_ know that she rescued this bear, but the reader might be learning this information the same time that Wheein does.”

 

“That would be…a pretty interesting twist if we were writing in third-person…um, what’s that called again? Third person…”

 

“Limited. Yes. If the story was in Wheein’s point of view, this would be an interesting turn of events.”

 

“What about character development?” Byulyi asked. “It seems like there are a lot of stuff I should know about the character beforehand, but characters never stay the same forever. At least, I don’t _think_ they do. Should they?”

 

Yongsun tucked her hand beneath her chin and furrowed her brows. “No, you’re right,” she said, “characters can change. In most stories they do. I personally think every good protagonist should be dynamic rather than static—change rather than stay the same, but it can also be really powerful if your character learns _nothing_ at all from their experience. I think...one of the things to remember as well is that nothing is ever set in stone, so don’t stress yourself out about these details. It’s your story, and you can manipulate it however you want. You can always go back and change the way she reacts and acts, so, yes, planning helps, but don’t stick too closely to your plans. I find that boxes the story in.”

 

“Do personalities ever just develop on their own? Based on these actions and reactions and stuff?”

 

“Oh yes! Of course! I often surprise myself how different my intentions are compared to the finished products. That’s why I think editing that plays a much bigger role than writing sometimes, but we can talk about that later.”

 

Byulyi nodded, then pointed to the other side of the page. “Were you going to draw what happens if Hyejin was by herself?”

 

“Yeah, but I think you get it.”

 

Byulyi groaned, dropped the paper and pencil onto the floor, and stretched. Yongsun stood, stretched her legs, and resumed her seat beside Byulyi. “This is crazy, unnie,” Byulyi said, wrapping her arms around Yongsun’s shoulder and burying her head in the crook of her neck. “We’ve been talking about this for an hour, and I haven’t even started this story. All we’ve got is slutty Barbarian Hyejin and a bear.”

 

“I can’t say that was my first choice,” Yongsun said. She laughed, the gentle vibrations in her throat sending a wave of warmth through Byulyi’s body. Byulyi could feel her fingers absentmindedly running through the fringe of her hair along her back. The shiver in her spine and the warmth in her cheek sent a tangle of feelings rising into her heart, and she wanted to stay like this forever. But she pulled away at Yongsun’s first sign of discomfort, and immediately missed the softness.

 

Yongsun cleared her throat. “Do you…want to order dinner before we continue?”

 

 

**SETTING**

 

 

“Alright, Byul, what’s the next thing we need to think about once we have our characters?” Yongsun said through a mouthful of fried chicken. Byulyi looked up from her phone for a moment, then quickly glanced back down.

 

“Wait, unnie, Hyejin wants to know if we want to do something tomorrow since we have the day off. I was thinking that I’d like to start writing or something, but if you want to…I can…do whatever…you want to do,” Byulyi said, waving one hand around as she became increasingly flustered.

 

Yongsun grinned. “I guess it will depend on whether we can get through everything today. We’ve just kind of scratched the surface a little.”

 

“Okay, I’ll let her know.” Byulyi tapped out her message, flipped her phone over, and leaned back with wide eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yongsun asked.

 

Byulyi shook her head. “Aish, I don’t know if I can face Hyejin after this experiment. I keep picturing her in my head as a barbarian now.”

 

The innocuous comment, said in all seriousness, prompted a loud snort from Yongsun, which sent her into a fit of howling laughter. She dropped the chicken onto her plate and doubled over, gasping so loudly that Byulyi could only look on for a brief moment before joining her. She wasn’t sure Yongsun understood the infectious effect of her squealing laughter, but in that moment, nobody seemed to mind.

 

“Okay, okay,” Yongsun finally said in between the residual chuckles, “let’s switch gears. We’re not going to write about Hyejin and Wheein anymore.”

 

“Eh, I thought we were writing the story together!”

 

“We are! Sort of.” Yongsun picked up her piece of chicken again, and gestured with it erratically as she spoke. “I want to start over because everyone’s process is different, remember? It’s not really a step-by-step thing, so I don’t want you to think that everyone designs their character first, then moves on to the next part. It’s not really that easy. Usually, the character, plot, and setting are really closely tied together.”  

 

Byulyi reached for a piece of chicken of her own. “Does that mean that we’re doing lesbian space barbarians after all?”

 

“Byul! No! Okay, I want you to close your eyes. Yes, you can keep eating. Just don’t get sauce everywhere, alright? Close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. No peeking! Aish. You’re listening to the sound of my voice right now, and I’m talking to you through dialogue. What are you picturing?”

 

“What do you mean what am I picturing? You’re not describing anything.”

 

“No, just listen. What are you picturing when you hear me speak to you?”

 

“Um, nothing? You? Your face and whatever you’re saying?”

 

“Good, you can open your eyes now.”

 

Byulyi opened her eyes and was greeted by a mischievous smile. She glanced down at her empty plate and cried, “Unnie! You took my chicken! If you wanted my piece, you could’ve just asked!”

 

Yongsun laughed, but happily chewed on. She swallowed and continued, “Believe it or not, I was trying to make a point. When you have characters interacting, it’s easy to get caught up in the dialogue and the body language and all that stuff and forget _where_ your characters are. If you want your characters to be believable humans who do not randomly teleport, you and your reader need to know where your characters are. When I wasn’t describing anything, it was hard to know what to picture, right? People have very good imaginations, but you need to have creative constraints.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Yongsun held a piece of chicken between her fingers. “Close your eyes for me, Byul, and describe this piece of chicken.”

 

Byulyi complied. “It’s brown, and covered in gochujang, so it’s reddish, kind of shiny, and it has onions on it.” She opened her eyes, and smiled when she saw that she was spot on.

 

“Good! You can have this piece of chicken as your reward. You listed four details about this piece of chicken, which you were able to see beforehand.” Yongsun wiped her fingers on a napkin, and reached over to retrieve the note paper with the bear drawings on it. Byulyi silently ate her reward, her eyes dutifully following Yongsun’s movements as she picked up the pencil from earlier, walked over to the electric sharpener to sharpen it, then returned to her seat. “Now,” Yongsun resumed, “I want you to draw a whale above my bear here.”

 

“Uh, you know I’m not a good artist, unnie. Are you trying to trick me?”

 

“Just do it.”

 

“Fine,” she groaned. “Just let me wash my hands.”

 

Minutes later, a simple line drawing of a whale appeared above the bear. Byulyi smiled, satisfied with her work, and handed it back to Yongsun. “There you go,” she said.”

 

“Now describe to me what a whale looks like.”

 

Byulyi raised a brow. “It’s…large,” she said slowly, tracing the shape with her finger in the air. “The tail is kind of like this…It has a spout, and fins, and a huge mouth.”

 

Yongsun grabbed Byulyi’s phone from the table, typed in a couple of words, and presented her a photograph of a humpback whale. “Now tell me,” she said, holding up the phone in one hand, and the drawing in the other, “which whale were you picturing when you were describing it to me?”

 

Byulyi blushed, and pointed to her drawing. “You did trick me!” she cried.

 

Yongsun shook her head, and returned the phone to its original place in front of Byulyi. “I didn’t trick you, jeez. I was just trying to make a point. When I asked you to draw a whale, you immediately thought of the kind of whale that you can draw so you can put it on paper. Like you said, you’re not a great artist. I won’t fight you on that.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“But if I asked Wheein to draw a whale, she would definitely have a very different interpretation of the whale. I would guess that hers would look more like the photograph than a grade schooler’s drawing.”

 

“That’s rude, unnie.”

 

“Either way, your brain will most likely imagine something that fits _your_ way of thinking, and not everyone will have the same way of thinking. If I had not asked you to draw the whale beforehand, you probably would have described a very different whale, maybe even as accurately as you describe the chicken in your tummy. So if you want to create a world for your story, even if it already exists, your job will be to know exactly what things look like so that you can transport your readers to the same place.”

 

Absentmindedly, Byulyi shaded in the curve of the whale’s head as she listened. “I don’t know why you didn’t say so in the first place, unnie.”

 

“Yah! I told you I wanted to make a point. Now close your eyes again. Yah! Don’t look at me like that. Just do it. I promise I won’t steal your chicken. Good. With your eyes closed, I want you to describe the room that we’re in. As much detail as possible.”

 

Byulyi squeezed her eyes shut and imagined herself sitting across from Yongsun in bird’s eye view. “We’re…sitting at a white, rectangular dining table with a glass top. There are…flowers at the centre. You’re sitting on my right. There is a plate in front of each of us, and you probably have a piece of chicken on yours because I heard you take it from my plate just now. The take-out container is beside the flowers. We each have a glass of water in front of us too. Oh, and my phone is here. Um, we’re sitting in your dining area, which is in your living room. The kitchen is behind me, and the couch is somewhere behind you in front of the TV. You have a stack of dramas on your coffee table. Ah, your coffee table is wooden, and it has a wobbly leg because I broke it a while back. Um, and you have a bookshelf beside your TV, and there’s…stuff in it. I don’t remember. Books and…other stuff. I think you have a clock in it? And…”

 

“Okay, that’s good. You can open your eyes now. And yes, there is a clock in it. You picked it out with me, remember? Here is a piece of chicken for your efforts.”

 

Byulyi frowned. “You ate half of this.”

 

“Anyway! That was really good. You remembered way more than I thought you would. Now that you’re more aware of the room we’re in, if I asked you to picture my voice talking to you, you would probably picture yourself in this room rather than just the words. If I asked you to describe a living room, you would probably picture this exact one. That’s what I mean by creative constraint. If I did not show you the limits of your imagination by giving you specific pieces of information…ah, well, in this case I _showed_ you specific information, then you may end up imagining totally different things than what I intended. If you’re specific enough, then the reader will be right with you in the place you want them to be in. You don’t want people floating around in white space and imagining words and faces flying around. Details are—”

 

“Wait, unnie, does that mean that I should describe everything in detail? Wouldn’t that take forever?”

 

Byulyi leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Yongsun waved a hand around the room and said, “You don’t need to include all of this.” She pointed to the bookshelf beside the television. “You can simply say that there is a bookshelf beside my TV. Unless there is an object that is significant or symbolic in your story, then you don’t need to bore people with every object on that shelf. Let people’s imagination do the work.”

 

“But you just said—”

 

“Byul-ah, creative constraints does not mean shutting off people’s imagination. All they need is enough information to see how _my_ living room might be specific. If I was the main character, for example, this space might be used to show details about my character. The dramas on the table might show that I like to watch dramas, and the wobbly table leg might show that I’m too lazy to fix it, which is true. Or that I have a _very_ clumsy friend who comes into my house and breaks this, which is also true. But! You don’t always need to be very specific unless it’s important. Maybe my stack of dramas are all romance dramas, which might show you that I’m a romantic.”

 

“You do watch a lot of cheesy dramas,” Byul offered, nodding toward the stack of DVDs. “Also the fact that you own DVDs might say something about your character. Probably your age.”

 

“Now who’s being rude?” Yongsun huffed. “There are some things you can keep to yourself as well. As long as _you_ are familiar with the room, it’s okay to let readers fill in some of the gaps in detail. In fact, too much detail can sometimes bog people down. It’s a balance, and, especially if you’re writing a story that’s not set in your understanding of the world, you need to make sure people are on board with you. Let’s clean up and move over to the couch. Take the notebook too.”

 

Byulyi dropped the dishes into the kitchen sink, where she gave them a practiced scrub and rinse. Once all the dishes were put away and the chicken packed neatly into the fridge, Byulyi found herself curled up against the arm of the couch with Yongsun curled up on the other end. Though they faced each other with only a cushion apart, Byulyi held tight onto the pillow in her arms and wished she could move to the other side. Unbeknownst to her, Yongsun faced a similar dilemma as she held her knees up against her chest. They exchanged a smile, relaxed, and shook off the silly ideas in their heads.

 

“So,” Yongsun began. “Shall we continue? Where were we?”  

 

Byulyi bit her lip. “Um, you were talking about details, I think. And the room and stuff.”

 

“Right. We,” she said, gesturing between them, “were at the dining table, but now we’re on the couch.”

 

Byulyi raised a brow. “Thank you. I didn’t notice that.”

 

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Yongsun said, poking Byulyi’s leg with the tip of her toe, “But you know, it’s possible not to notice that if you were reading this situation in a book. One moment, we were chatting at the table, and the next, we’re chatting on the couch. If you had not described the couch beforehand, the reader may be confused. ‘Where did the couch come from?’ they might ask. Or maybe they missed something, and they were picturing the table when, all of a sudden, you start talking about the arm rest. Either way, it’s usually not a good idea to walk into situations where people’s imaginations don’t line up with yours.”

 

“So you need to know where your characters are and what your room looks like. That doesn’t seem too hard.”

 

Yongsun shrugged. “Maybe for some? People have different weaknesses, after all. I’ll admit that sometimes I’m not very good at using the space around my characters. It’s easy to get caught up in the action and the dialogue, and maybe you’re already picturing the setting in your head, but you forget to describe it. Or maybe you don’t want to describe it because it ruins the moment. That’s why I suggested writing things down earlier, because you’re holding entire worlds in your head, and within the worlds are photographs of time, place, and character, and you’re thinking about how to convey those photographs by painting a picture. I kind of think that writing is a lot more like painting than photography. I’m sure some photographers would disagree, but the point is that we are capturing tangible things and turning them into abstract things, and every part of that process is deliberate. Ah, I guess I’m getting a little off-topic now. Anyway, there are lots of ways that the setting can mess you up, but if you use it well, it can be a very powerful part of your story.”

 

“No, I think you’re right, unnie. I guess I can see that,” Byulyi said, picking up the bear drawing from the middle cushion. “I mean, we started with this vague kid’s drawing as our world, then we started thinking about it in different ways. Maybe if we added water here next to the bear the scenario would turn out differently. Ah! Maybe…maybe where Barbarian Hyejin lived or grew up will change her whole personality and change how she approaches the bear entirely. She could even be a whole different person! Woah…”

 

Yongsun shuffled over to the middle couch cushion, one arm wrapped around her knees and the other stretched out with her palm in the air. Byulyi lit up and brought her palm forward to meet Yongsun’s in a perfect high-five. “You got it,” Yongsun said with a grin.

 

**PLOT**

 

“So what's next, unnie?” Byulyi asked. She held her notes up proudly. “I have my character and my setting, sort of. Can we start writing now?”

“The story?” Yongsun said with a sly smile.

“Well, yeah, what else?”

“Sure! How do we go about doing that?”

Byulyi frowned. “This is what you're supposed to be telling me.”

Yongsun chuckled. “Aish, our Byulkong is so cheeky today. Okay, let me ask you this. What is the most important part about the story?”

“That’s a big question, unnie.”

“There is a single big idea that makes stories exciting. It's something that drives our characters forward, motivates them, and keeps us reading. For lots of people, I think it’s why we read in the first place since everybody experiences this at some point.”

“Uh, love?”

“That can be a part of it. Think bigger than that.”

“The...purpose? I don't know. Emotions? The journey?”

“Bigger still.”

Byulyi sighed. “This is too vague. I can't read your mind, unnie. People must read for so many reasons. I don't see how you can have just one.”

“Byul-ah, try harder, because you're probably going to hate me when I tell you,” Yongsun said with a wide smile. “It's very obvious.”

Byulyi rolled her eyes. “Just tell me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeez, unnie, stop it with the suspense!”

“It's conflict.”

Byulyi said nothing and first, though her knit brows spoke volumes. “Hmm,” she began slowly, “I mean, I think I agree with you that conflict drives characters forward and stuff, but do you really think people read books because of the conflict?”

“Yes. I think we all suffer from all sorts of conflicts in our everyday lives, and it's the ability to identify with the characters in _their_ conflicts and the way they overcome these conflicts. Emotional attachment is everything when it comes to keeping readers wanting more. Even if it’s some cheesy romance, it’s the little looks and the uncertainty that we love.”

Byulyi reached forward toward Yongsun’s pile of dramas, and picked off the first box. She held up the cover, depicting a beautiful couple, distressed side characters, and a hospital in the background. “Let me ask you then,” she said, “why did you watch this drama?”

Yongsun blushed. “You know why.”

“I do,” Byulyi replied with a chuckle. “You watched all of it even though you said it was bad. Even though I told you it was bad from the beginning! But for the sake of argument, why did you keep going?”

“Because...emotional attachment? I was invested in the characters, okay!”

Byulyi held up a hand. “First of all, not true. You told me you hated everyone and I have your millions of SMS messages to prove it. Second, I'm going to pretend you were being honest and ask where the investment came from.”

“It's the conflict, Byul,” Yongsun said, crossing her arms. “The trials and tribulations that the characters go through makes the success in the end more satisfying.”

“So you didn't spend all 25 episodes yelling, ‘Just kiss already!’ at the TV,” Byulyi said. The corner of her lip curled into a victorious smirk when Yongsun simply gaped. “My point is, unnie, that maybe sometimes you just want to watch shitty dramas because you want to. Maybe it comes from your own conflicts that help you identify with the characters or whatever, but I don't know if everyone would agree with the same reasoning. Besides, would you say you watch all of these dramas for the same reason? Some of these were actually really good for different reasons. Or maybe you just watched this because the actors are good looking.”

“Hey! That's not...well they are...but that's not—”

“It's okay, unnie, I get it,” she said, smirking once more.

Yongsun sighed, and shook her head with a resigned smile. “You're right. Jeez, when did you get so clever?”

“I've always been clever,” Byulyi huffed. “But praise me some more. I don't mind, unnie.”

Yongsun laughed, and leaned over to ruffle her bangs. “Who’s the smartest little Byul,” she cooed. “Aish, you're becoming more and more like Daebakkie every day.”

“Hey!”

“Let me change my original statement then,” Yongsun continued, ignoring her, “the driving force of stories and characters is conflict. I think there is a big difference between writing and reading a story too. For a writer, conflict is one of the most important elements in a story. For a reader, like you said, this might not be the case. Conflict might be a part of the emotional attachment, and it might even be the reason why someone reads your story, but not always. Ah, sorry, getting off track. Well, let's just say that we shouldn't assume how readers will react. The author is dead once someone reads your work. But as the author, I think conflict is very important.

“So bear with me for a little bit,” Yongsun said with a sheepish smile, “I just want to break it down a bit. There are two main types of conflicts: interpersonal and intrapersonal. Outside versus inside. They’re the broadest categories, and they kind of sum up our everyday conflicts in life too. When I stole your chicken earlier, you didn’t like that--that’s a minor example of interpersonal conflict because it’s between two or more people. If you are sitting here right now, thinking about your life and struggling to understand why you’re putting yourself through all of this, then that’s an example of intrapersonal conflict.”

Yongsun ripped out a third piece of paper from her notebook, and wrote out a list. “Man versus man,” she read, “man versus self, man versus society, man versus nature, man versus supernatural cosmic super robots. Whatever your character, in this case Hyejin, is facing, it will go under these two broad categories. And, yes, before you ask, she can be fighting against more than one thing. Maybe she’s fighting super robots in the middle of a hurricane while a bunch of misogynists are attacking her self-esteem. It would be a pretty…complicated story, but in a storyline, there tends to be one main struggle that comes with a main goal that the character will achieve. Even if we had that ridiculous scenario with the robots, there might be a big overarching conflict.”

“Like…maybe she’s trying to prove herself? Or maybe she wants to save Wheein?”

“Yeah, maybe she’s going on a journey to redeem herself in some way. Or she’s on a mission to punch all the misogynists in the world. Or maybe there are simply a bunch of robots invading earth that are threatening to destroy the planet.”

Byulyi snickered. “Ahn Hyejin. Misogynist Puncher in a Furry Loincloth. Saving the world, one punch at a time.”

“Yep, she’ll kill us.”

“Are you kidding?” Byulyi leapt out of her seat and grabbed her phone from the dining table. “She’d love it! Wait, I have to tell Wheein. I need her to draw this.” Within a second, her phone beeped, and Byulyi burst into laughter. “She’s on it, unnie.”

“Well, I guess it’s her birthday soon. You’ll have a month to write this novel, Byul, and I really wish you would.”

Byulyi shook her head. “I told you, unnie, I’m writing for a friend.”

Yongsun scooted closer to Byulyi’s resumed seat, and leaned in close. “Who is it, anyway?” she whispered.

“Eh, I’m not telling.”

“Byul-ah! Why are you so secretive? Your unnie is helping you so much!”

“Nope,” she said, shaking vigorously, “it’s a secret.”

“Byul-aaaaah.”

Yongsun puffed out her cheeks. Byulyi laughed and gently poked her right cheek, “I’m allowed to have secrets, unnie. You can stop pouting now. Your mochi cheeks are going to explode.”

Yongsun whined and shook Byulyi’s arm with increasing vigor, but Byulyi only shook her head, steadfast. Yongsun crossed her arms and continued to pout. Finally, with brows raised and eyes wide, she asked, “Is this…a crush?”

Byulyi reddened. “Yah! You’re making this weird!”

“Oh my god, you’re writing for a crush. Who is this? Do I know this person?” Yongsun cried with renewed energy, pawing the sleeve of Byulyi’s sweater.

“Stop being weird!”

“Byulkong, Byulkong, you can tell your unnie,” Yongsun continued. She picked up Byulyi’s sleeve and swung it back and forth.

“Now you're being gross,” Byulyi said, frowning deeply to hide her smile. She made no move to pull her arm back, even when Yongsun seemed bent on dislocating her shoulder. “Yongkong, Yongkong, you're being really gross right now.”

Yongsun leaned in and hugged her arm. Byulyi could barely hear her pleas when she felt the press of Yongsun’s chest against her.

“Unnie,” Byulyi said, quietly. She turned to meet Yongsun’s eyes, her lips pressed tightly into a thin line. “I’m feeling a lot of interpersonal conflict right now.”

Yongsun sighed, and leaned back. “I hate you. You don’t tell me anything,” she mumbled. “I don’t want to help you anymore.”

“Unnie, noooo,” Byulyi whined, “I’ll tell you later, but you have to help me.” She pushed back against Yongsun and threw her arms around her waist, then buried her face into her collarbone once more. Yongsun pulled back at the unexpected affection, and fell backwards into the couch, pulling Byulyi with her. She groaned and lifted herself from Yongsun’s chest. “What are you doing, yeba? That was a very strong reaction,” she cried.  

Yongsun rubbed the back of her head where it hit the armrest. “I’m feeling a lot of intrapersonal conflict right now,” she muttered, absentmindedly pressing a palm over where Byulyi’s face had been.  

“What?”

“Nothing. I said nothing.”

Byulyi sighed, and, with the grace of a newborn deer, untangled herself from Yongsun with her heart pounding in her ears. Finally, she stood, and said, “I don't know why you're being weird, unnie, but I’ll tell you later, okay? I’ll get us some water, and then we can continue.”

When Byulyi returned, Yongsun was stretched out across the couch, her head on Byulyi’s armrest as she appraised the notes in her hands.  Byulyi placed the glasses down on the coffee table and motioned for Yongsun to move. Yongsun sat up just long enough for her to settle in, before reclining back to her original position, this time with her head in Byulyi’s lap. They did not exchange a word for a long time. Yongsun stared at the piece of paper in deep concentration, periodically scribbling something down, while Byulyi stroked her hair and watched her work. The silence, though long, was comfortable.

“Byul-ah, have you seen this?” She said, raising the piece of paper above her head, nearly slapping the sheet against Byulyi’s face. Byulyi flinched back at the close call, and quickly reached up to receive it. She squinted down at the long, curved line across the page.

“Is this a plot diagram?” She asked. “Do people really use these?”

“Mm, I don't really, but I like to picture this in my head before I write anything down. It's simple, I think, and sometimes you need a bit of simplicity so you can have a big picture before you expand on details.” She scribbled several lines across the page with varying lengths and curves turning at varying points. “See?” She said, “These diagrams can be so different. Maybe the exposition doesn't even exist. Maybe you want to start with the climax. Maybe the falling action is your whole story. I don't know. But for me, in any story, I like to start with a very general version of this diagram where I simply think about three things: beginning, middle, and end. And I sort of think about what kind of line I want to represent the those three things.”

She flipped the piece of paper so that it laid horizontally over her palms above her face, her head nestled comfortably between Byulyi’s thighs. The two edges of the paper were then pushed up to create a curve in the middle. “Maybe for Hyejin’s story, the main storyline will look like this,” she said, “a simple curve from beginning to end. She discovers a problem maybe, perhaps in meeting Wheegolas, and she goes on trying to overcome the problem. At the peak here, is the climax. Maybe she fights off the robots and saves the world. The other side of the slope, then, is when the story begins to wrap up. Maybe Barbarian Hyejin tries to adjust to a normal life?”

“This is like a little fairytale. But better.”

“So maybe you want to write something a little different,” Yongsun said. She straightened out the piece of paper and tilted it at a 45 degree angle. “Maybe we start right in the middle of the battle, right at the climax. Point is, there isn't just one way to build a storyline. You can have a ton of different ones interconnecting, or parallel lines, or maybe even a bunch of disjointed lines under a big, broad slope.”

“And this is something you do in your head?”

“Yeah, but I think a lot of people like to write it down so they can piece it all together. I guess I like exploring too much. It’s like...as you go along, all these paths open up and you want to know which one to take so you explore a little bit of each on.” As Yongsun rambled on, Byulyi’s fingers fluttered across her forehead and through her hair. She closed her eyes and sighed into her absent touch. “S-so let's go back to this storyline. What do you think our little story should look like?”

Byulyi, who had been nodding along as she listened, froze in mid-stroke across Yongsun’s hair and nervously withdrew her hand. She cleared her throat. “W-well, she meets Wheegolas,” Byulyi said. She took the piece of paper from Yongsun, straightened it out, and circled the leftmost edge of the diagram with her finger. “Over here. Their relationship builds up this line, until the big robot battle up here on this point.”

Yongsun sat up, and leaned into Byulyi’s side. “So what does that relationship-building look like? This part,” she said, gently holding Byulyi’s hand and guiding her finger up the slope, “is often the longest. We call it the rising action, and in this simple model, it's where we challenge our characters over and over until we reach the tipping point, where a dramatic change happens.”

Yongsun’s hand lingered on Byulyi’s just a moment longer than either expected, and Byulyi instantly missed the warmth when Yongsun dropped her hand onto her knee. She pretended to focus on the drawing while her hand crept down to cover Yongsun’s. “The events throughout this long line,” she said smoothly, “aren’t they changing the story over and over in different ways? Aren’t all of these technically dramatic changes? How would you know when you’ve hit the climax?”

Yongsun’s gaze flickered down to Byulyi’s hand, then over her face, settling briefly on her lips before returning to her eyes. “You just do,” she said in a low whisper. At the surprise taking over Byulyi’s  features, and the blush that came with it, Yongsun cleared her throat. “I-I don’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?” Byulyi asked with a smirk.

“Aigo, nevermind. You’re going to make it weird. What I meant to say is that a dramatic change usually changes the protagonist in a significant way.”

“Which,” Byulyi supplied, “can happen several times, couldn’t it? Even though there’s only one spike here. Some people can have multiple climaxes, you know.” She finished with a waggle of her brows, immediately earning a strong, sharp shove, sending her sideways against the armrest.

“Yah! Stop making it weird!” Yongsun cried.

“But it’s true!” Byulyi laughed.

Yongsun blushed bright pink, but did not deny the facts. “You can have...one clmax, or two, or however many you want, but I think in a lot of stories, there is one big defining moment that changes the character _and_ the world around the character. I guess. Yeah. In our example, I think we said that our climax is when Hyejin fights off the robots?”

“And saves the world.”

“Right. So after however many pages it takes for Hyejin to achieve this goal, she will have to think about her life afterward. It’s a pretty big change, right?”

“Maybe she finally gets the girl.”

“Or maybe she doesn’t.”

Byulyi shot Yongsun a look. “She finally gets the girl,” Yongsun repeated, patting Byulyi’s knee in assurance.

“So now she has to adjust her whole life and get used to this world without robots,” Byulyi said. “Her goals change, and she’s a different person now. But she could just be the same person. Maybe these robots were just an insignificant nuisance to her, and saving the world is nothing?”

Yongsun raised a brow. “So Hyejin is a superhero with a furry loincloth now?”

“Hyejin can do anything, unnie. Believe in our capable maknae.”

“Even if saving the world means nothing to her, she will probably have some sort of big revelation with Wheegolas. Otherwise, your story might turn into a genre like realism, where a lot of the plot is modelled after everyday life. It’s not bad, but I don’t know if that’s what you want to accomplish. But,” she paused for a moment to chew her lower lip, “to be honest...sometimes I don’t think about this at all. I just write what feels right.”

Byulyi sighed into Yongsun’s side, and lightly tapped the side of her head against Yongsun’s. “That’s the best thing you’ve said all day,”

“Oh, but we’re not done yet.”

 

**EDITING**

 

“Sometimes, I think editing is my favourite part,” Yongsun said, crunching down on a potato chip. She chewed, her mind rushing through all the things she wanted to say, but threw another chip in her mouth instead. She craned her neck around from her seat on the floor, and threw her arm over Byulyi’s knee beside her as she lifted the bag up. “Want one?”

The bag crinkled above her head. “What is this?” Byulyi asked, crinkling her nose.

Yongsun turned the bag around so Byulyi could read it. “Honey butter chips,” Yongsun said happily. “They’re amazing. They changed my life.”

“Woah!”

“It’s good, right? Hyejin recommended them to me.”

“That girl has good taste,” Byulyi replied in awe, digging into the offered bag for another chip.

“Mmhmm, I think Wheein would agree.”

Byulyi chuckled and lowered herself onto the floor, tucking her legs under the coffee table and pressing against Yongsun’s side. To be closer to the chips, she reasoned. “Anyway,” she said, “editing sounds boring.”

“It’s just misunderstood,” Yongsun said, waving her free hand around. “I think a lot of people think of editing as just checking for grammar mistakes, but I think it’s so much more than that.”

She reached over and plucked the potato chip out from between Byulyi’s eager fingers, and smirked when Byulyi turned to her with a pout. “Unnie! There are so many in the bag!” Byulyi whined.

Yongsun ignored her. “It's like this chip,” she said. “Growing the potato and cutting it up doesn't make it special. People don't eat these chips because they think, ‘Ah, this potato tastes different than other potatoes.’” She turned to look right into Byulyi’s eyes, her expression serious. Byulyi squirmed under the intensity of her gaze. “Aren't you going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“What makes these chips great. Ask me.”

Byulyi blinked. “Okay...what makes these chips great, unnie?”

Yongsun grinned broadly, holding her chip out like she had a monologue at the ready. “The seasoning!”

Byulyi shook her head at the dramatic flair, but she could not suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

“It's the flavour,” Yongsun went on. “A potato is just a potato until you add these flavours. Someone had to think about the flavour profile, experiment with it, and add it to these potatoes, and that's how you get chips that are so good.”

“What if it's just potato flavour? People like their chips with just salt sometimes.”

“That's an artistic choice,” Yongsun chuckled. “The chip creator person made a deliberate choice by keeping it simple, and there's nothing wrong with that. It depends on the kind of chip you want to make, or the kind of chip you think other people will enjoy.”

Byulyi stared at the yellow crisp in her hand for a while, turning it over in deliberation for a moment before biting down with a crunch. “These are really good, unnie, but are we still talking about writing?”

Yongsun grinned. “Of course! You don't like my chip metaphor?”

Byulyi ran her clean hand through her bangs. “Well, I was just thinking...the potato metaphor...it seems so straightforward. Grow potatoes, cut, fry, season. But I don't know, I don't always edit after I finish growing the potato when I write songs...do you know what I mean?”

“Ah.” Yongsun nodded sagely. “You're right. I tend to edit as I go. Sometimes when I get stuck, I'd go back and edit what I already have. It really depends on your process. I like to do it throughout, but it's important at the end to make sure things are consistent. Once you have the whole thing laid out, it's much easier to expand or rework your ideas too! So even though you might season throughout, you want to season at the very end too. Make sure your flavours actually make sense.” She paused to read the bag once more. “Maybe make sense isn't the right term. Who would think to put butter and honey together on a potato?”

“Lots of people.”

“Well, the important thing is that they go well together.”

Byulyi nodded. “Maybe sometimes...two things might not...make sense...when you put them together. But they just fit somehow.” She could feel Yongsun’s wide eyes boring into the side of her face, but she blushed and averted her eyes.

“Y-yeah.” Yongsun cleared her throat. “That's why...editing is important.”

They sat in silence for a while, with only the sounds of muffled crunching between them. When the bag emptied, Yongsun got up to throw it away, then resumed her seat beside Byulyi. Byulyi smiled at the welcome contact.

“Earlier,” Byulyi said, breaking the comfortable quiet, “you said that editing is your favourite part. But it sounds kind of boring. Sometimes I spend hours staring at the same lines and it can be so frustrating. How can you like it?”

Yongsun looked down at Byulyi’s open palm on her knee. “I guess,” she said absentmindedly, “it’s like discovering your story all over again.” She tore her gaze away when she felt Byulyi’s quizzical eyes on her. “You can...take a step back and look at the full picture, or you can dive into the scenes one at a time and explore every path. Don't you think that sounds fun?” She said quietly. “It's like getting to know someone all over again and seeing how they've changed and rediscovering why you loved them in the first place. Or even...discovering that you love them more.”

Yongsun looked up and into Byulyi’s eyes. She was far closer than either had expected. Byulyi swallowed, torn between moving forward or ducking back.

“Y-yeah. I get it,” Byulyi mumbled into the narrow space between them. She raised a shaking hand to Yongsun’s pink cheeks, unable to tear her gaze away from the glazed look in Yongsun’s eyes. Her fingertips brushed the soft skin. Yongsun jolted, and flinched away.

“S-so...editing is important,” she continued, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears.

Byulyi blinked at the sudden gulf between them and sighed. When did her heart get so heavy?

“I think I got it,” Byulyi said, running her hand through her bangs. She slowly blew out a puff of air when the silence stretched into discomfort. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a curtain of pink shifting around. Byulyi picked up Yongsun’s notebook and pencil from the coffee table, and began to scribble.

She felt Yongsun close in behind her, and turned to shield the notebook with an open palm. “No peeking,” she said with a conspiratorial grin.

Yongsun puffed her cheeks and leaned back. “You're no fun.”

Ten minutes later, Byulyi shoved the notebook into Yongsun’s lap. Yongsun raised a brow at the way she immediately hugged her knees, eyes averted, but said nothing as she began to read.

_There was once a barbarian named Hyejin. She looked strong, and had the muscles to prove it. She was not a complex person, and she always did things in a straightforward way._

_Many girls in the village loved Hyejin. She was strong, reliable, and beautiful to boot. But even though there were many beautiful girls in that village, no one caught her interest. All she loved was her bear, Seulgi, and drinking and swinging from the trees. Her dream was to meet someone to accept and love who she is and the bear that came with her._

_One day, Seulgi let out a loud cry. Hyejin rushed to her from the treetops, but when she got there, she saw someone else. An elf stood several meters away, with her bow drawn at Seulgi, whose hind legs were tangled between a bolas._

_“No!” Hyejin shouted. The elf looked up and an arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing Hyejin’s left ear._

_Hyejin growled and leapt down to land in front of the elf. “Don't you dare touch Seulgi.”_

_The elf girl blinked, too shocked for words. Then her cheeks pinked._

_The girl was shy, and very cute, and Hyejin could not help but lower her guard despite Seulgi’s waning moans in the background. The girl also lowered her bow as she backed away slowly._

_Hyejin cleared her throat and mustered the strongest voice she had. “Why did you hurt my friend?” she cried._

_The girl winced. “It charged at me,” she said quietly. The corner of her lip tugged back nervously, revealing a deep dimple._

_Hyejin’s heart hammered furiously. She licked her dry lips, and stalked closer to the girl, who backed away with each step. “No one hurts my friend,” Hyejin said. “Now you have to be my wife.”_

Yongsun dropped the notebook into her lap. “Wow,” she mumbled, staring up at Byulyi with wide eyes. “That was unexpected. I’m impressed by how much you wrote in ten minutes.” She let out a breath of air through rounded lips. “Hyejin sure is something.”

Byulyi chuckled sheepishly. “It’s a first draft right? Just getting a feeling of everything and stuff,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “I guess we can...edit it...together?”

Yongsun picked up the notebook again. “Yeah.”

Byulyi scooted closer to peer over at her own work. “Where do we start? From the beginning?”

Yongsun hummed. “Sometimes. For me, I look at all the problem areas first. If nothing stands out, then I’ll start from the beginning.”

“Hm...Problem areas…” Byulyi leaned even closer, until Yongsun could smell the slight fragrance of her lotion from hours ago. Torn between burying her face in Byulyi’s skin and making it awkward for everyone or running away from this feeling in her chest, she simply stared straight ahead. “Do you see any, unnie?” Yongsun felt a puff of warm air against neck and shivered.

“You...it's your story, Byul. And you're too close,” she said, shoving the book into Byul’s hands with a blush. Byulyi stumbled with the unexpected motion, falling back with the notebook juggled to the floor.

“Unnie!” She cried. “Aish, no need for violence.” She pushed up from the floor with the notebook and dropped herself on the couch with a sigh. She smoothed out the wrinkled page and squinted at the words. “And I”—she rifled through the pages—“don't know what to look for.”

Yongsun stayed on the floor, pulling at the edge of her rug as she spoke. “Normally, we should wait at least twenty-four hours before getting into it. Because you just wrote it, you're still stuck in that world. Once you've refreshed your brain, you might start to look at things differently to see how things can be improved. You have to ask yourself questions—what would the reader think? Is every scene consistent? Has every scene been thoroughly explored? Have you successfully expressed what you want to express? And what about the technical parts? Are your sentences bogged down by unnecessary words? Are your sentences too rambly? Do you use the same writing structures or patterns over and over? Did you ‘tell’ too much? How can you ‘show’ more?”

Byulyi asked for the pencil on the floor, and Yongsun picked it up and pressed it into her outstretched fingers. “I don't know if I know what you mean by telling and showing, but,” —she tapped the pencil on the notebook— “how about this…”

_She was strong, reliable, and beautiful to boot._

_She never turned down a person in need, and did everything from mending roofs to carting the harvest. The village girls would swoon at the way her muscles flexed and her skin glisten with sweat when she walked by with fifty pounds of flour on her shoulder._

Yongsun chuckled at the new paragraph. “Well, this certainly has more character to it,” she said.

“It's cheesy, right?” Byulyi said with a lopsided grin.

“Just a bit. Don't worry, this is just your first edit.”

“What? There's more?”

“Well, on average writers will write nine to twelve drafts. Sometimes more, sometimes less. Ah, don't look at me like that. This is just practice, right? Besides, Wheeinie would love this. But why is she carrying flour? Don't people use horses for that?”

Byulyi shrugged. “It’s sexy.”

Yongsun fell into a peal of laughter, clapping along with each barking syllable. “Moving flour is sexy? So that's the kind of person you're into huh? Bakers?” She said, wiping a tear, “And I thought she didn't care what other people think.”

“Hey, she can still enjoy the effect she has on people!” Byulyi said, coolly ignoring Yongsun’s teasing as the heat rose to her face.

When the giggles subsided, Yongsun retrieved the notebook to take a glance through the revised sentence. “It really is better. You showed a bit more about your definition of strength and other characters’ reaction to it. If I want to go further because I think it might be important to understand protagonist, I might show examples of Hyejin refusing to turn someone down. Maybe there was a storm, but an old lady had asked her to help repair the roof, so she...I don't know...screamed at the storm and went about her work. I might also establish routines and go through bits and pieces of her daily life and how people treat her.” Yongsun took a breath. “The possibilities are endless. By the way, what's a bolas?”

“One of those weapons you see in movies and games and things like that. You've probably seen it,” Byulyi replied with abstract hand motions. “It's like a long rope with weights at the end. They use this to trip people, I guess. Should I explain that in the story?”

Yongsun shook her head. “You don't have to. Sometimes if you spend too long explaining things like that, the reader can get bored. It's implied that the object trapped the bear in some way already. I think context is usually enough information. One technique is to just drop hints about the object's appearance.”

Byulyi nodded slowly as her mind churned. “Maybe something like...the weights flew, and the ropes dance along with them.”

“Very poetic!” Yongsun said with a grin. “Just make sure your voice is consistent though. It's very strange when writers are very elegant once in a while, especially in first person.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she averted her eyes and continued picking at the carpet, “I admit I'm not very good at this myself...it's just that when you're writing, you have a voice. Even if you're writing in third person, your narrator has a personality. It's hard to take something seriously when your voice switches around all the time. Imagine if you wrote, ‘The weights flew, and the ropes danced along with them,’ then added ‘Seulgi fwumped over and Hyejin got pissed.’”

“Fwumped....?” Byulyi teased, nudging at Yongsun’s shoulder with a socked foot.

Yongsun blushed and was thankful that Byulyi was on the couch and couldn't see her face. “Aish! You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, unnie,” she snickered, “it's cute.”

Yongsun rolled her eyes. “If you’re done teasing me, maybe we can move on,” she said.

Byulyi peered over and grinned when she caught a peek of Yongsun’s smile. “What else is there to talk about?” She said, reaching forward to gently tug at the ends of her pink hair. Yongsun waved off her pestering fingers absentmindedly as she scanned the notebook.

“Maybe you should look over it and edit it yourself,” Yongsun said. “Try to show instead of tell, and try to expand on the important things and cut down on the fluff. I guess that's all there really is to it. Try the last part with the action.”

Byulyi received the notebook and once again curled up in the corner with her pencil. The clock ticked as the pencil alternated between tapping and scratching at the page. Yongsun waited patiently with her phone in hand, periodically laughing or squealing at the glowing screen, but despite the distraction, Byulyi remained intensely focused on the paper before her.

Several times Yongsun glanced up and admired the furrowed brows and pinched nose—a far cooler version of the playful idiot she was so accustomed to.

Half an hour later, Byulyi presented a web of crossed out sentences, floating words, and indecipherable symbols pressed into the very edge of the margins. “I'll read it out,” she said, grinning at Yongsun’s bewildered expression. She cleared her throat.

_“Hyejin growled and leapt down to land in front of the elf. The elf drew her bow reflexively, but the fury in this strange woman’s eyes did not waver. “Don't you dare touch Seulgi,” Hyejin said, her voice rumbling like thunder—”_

_“_ Wait,” Yongsun said. “Byul-ah, did you change perspectives in the same paragraph?”

“Uh, maybe? Is that bad…?”

Yongsun ripped out a new piece of notepaper and began scribbling furiously. A few minutes later, she handed Byulyi the sheet. “It's just a suggestion,” she said, sheepishly pulling at the her shirt’s loose threads.

Byulyi read.

_Hyejin growled and leapt down with a graceful thud before the strange elf. A dust of clouds wafted up into the air and settled back down to frame the pointed bow that threatened both her and her friend._

_The elf, bewildered, had drawn her bow on instinct at the stranger, whose unwavering fury boiling in those dark pupils tightened her grip on her weapon._

_‘No one hurts Seulgi.’”_

“This way it's clearer,” Yongsun explained, nervously. “You're not throwing the reader onto two minds at the same time. This gives readers some time, I think, to know who they're processing.”

Byulyi nodded and continued.

_The elf girl blinked, too shocked for words. Then, upon seeing the wild mane and sunkissed skin of the fearless woman before her, her cheeks pinked._

_Hyejin lowered her guard at the sight of the girl’s puffed pink cheeks. Seulgi’s waning moans were a blur in the background. The girl also lowered her bow as she backed away slowly._

“Why is it important to mention Seulgi here?” Yongsun asked. “Doesn't it seem kind of out of place?”

Byulyi hummed. “I figured it was just a way of building the setting like you said. I didn't want people forgetting she was still there.”

Yongsun clambered up onto the couch to peer over at the mess of black lines in the notebook. Byulyi frowned. “You don't like it, unnie? Should I take it out?”

Yongsun shook her head. “No, that's really clever. I hadn't thought of it.” She leaned back to sit on her heels. “Since this is third person, but also Hyejin’s point of view, I think it's a good idea to leave it. Realistically, this Hyejin, untameable as she is, wouldn't forget her friend, and this one sentence can describe so much. I'm really impressed, Byul!”

Byulyi beamed. “Praise me more, unnie,” she said, puffing out her chest. “I'm going to be the next Shakespeare if you do.”

Yongsun rolled her eyes. “Just keep reading.”

_The girl winced. “It charged at me,” she stuttered. The corner of her lip tugged back nervously in a half-smile, revealing a deep dimple._

_Hyejin’s heart hammered furiously at the sight. She licked her dry lips, and stalked closer to the girl, who backed away with each step. “No one hurts my friend,” Hyejin said. “Now you have to be my wife.”_

Byulyi closed her notebook. “Yeah, I gave up at the end,” she sighed.

Yongsun watched Byulyi’s fingers run along the cover of the notebook, her thumb flipping the pages, her gaze focused entirely on the space before her. She waited for Byulyi to find the  words.

“I guess,” Byulyi said finally, “I don’t know. Maybe the ending is a bit strong, but I kinda like it. Hyejin would be really bold, and I guess I kinda wish I could say things like that. I guess this is what you mean by putting yourself in the story. Maybe these stories are all just ways of...I don’t know...creating better versions of ourselves? Aish, maybe I should soften it up with ‘I like you’ instead. That’s...brave enough already.”

“Byul-ah, stop biting your thumb.” Yongsun tucked her hair behind her ears. She stared at the space between them. “If you want to say ‘I like you,’ you should just say it.”

“Hm.” Byulyi’s eyes flicked up to catch Yongsun’s for a brief moment. “What if the other person doesn't feel the same?”

“Hyejin doesn’t seem like someone who would give up before she tries,” Yongsun whispered.

Byulyi opened her mouth, then clamped it shut when nothing came out.

“I’ll be back.”

She shot up from the couch and slipped through the front door faster than Yongsun could follow her with her eyes. Yongsun blinked at the empty spot where Byul occupied. Her notebook and pencil were gone. She wondered if she should go to bed.

She stretched out across the couch cushions and laid her head on the armrest with her phone above her. The clock ticked and her keyboard tapped away at empty conversations as she wondered if Byulyi was coming back.

She nearly dropped her phone when Wheein sent her a preliminary sketch of Hyejin’s loincloth barbarian look. Her laughter bounced off her empty walls as she wondered if Byulyi was going to confess tonight.

At nearly two in the morning, Yongsun had just slid into her blankets when someone rang her doorbell. Five times in succession, accompanied by more knocks than she could quantify in her sleep-addled state.

“Who is it?” she mumbled. She rubbed her eyes as she unlocked the door.

Byulyi stood with the notebook clutched in her hands, a crooked smile doing its best to hide the nervous energy rushing through her. “Unnie.”

“Byul-ah, what—”

Byulyi cleared her throat and began to read to the rhythm of her heart.

_There once was a girl, her name was Hyejin._

_She had a friend she loved, a girl named Wheein_

_She tried to be cool, the fool, tried to be cute, tried to carve out those sins._

_But with Wheein she should’ve known_

_There’s no point in fronting, no point in hunting_

_For that perfect something, ‘cause there’s nothing to prove and nothing to lose._

 

_When did she stop seeing her as her best friend since thirteen,_

_The girl who’s always been there, as clear as her own mirror?_

_When did she start wearing these binds, when did she turn a blind eye?_

_Just open your eyes, take off the blinds—_

_Just drive._

 

_So they drove in love, old worries dragged to shreds_

_A happy end for the courage spent_

 

_But the two had a friend_

_An idiot Moon, a cowering fool—_

_Indecisive, insecure, inundated in love_

_And Hyejin kicked her, lashed her with her own words_

_God! If you could’ve seen the look on her face in that two-inch space between past mistakes and death’s embrace!_

_The idiot Moon hid under her schemes…_

_You wanna write a book, Hyejin scoffed, to confess to the girl of your dreams_

_You wanna waste her time and waste your rhymes on a plan so grand_

_You’ll forget why you began, you’ll forget you had plans_

_Or you’ll choose to forget while your head’s buried in the sand._

 

_So Hyejin looked over my shoulder, said my story was shit_

_Don’t break the edges off the square to make it fit_

_So I threw it out and wrote these words,_

_A mess of strings from my heart to yours_

_And it might not make a lot of sense but I’m tired…_

_Tired of being an idiot Moon with the half-assed rhymes,_

_Tired of running, of hiding, of pretending to be, pretending to see…_

_I’m tired of denying the truth:_

_That I’ll never tire of loving you._

An eternity must’ve passed before Yongsun realized how still she stood and how chaotic she felt. Byulyi watched her expectantly as she lowered the notebook, her eyes imploring her own for an answer. It was an answer she knew, yet all words escaped in favour of knots and nerves.

“M-maybe,” she stammered, “you should come in first.”

“Kim Yongsun.”

“Byul-ah, can’t you come in first?”

But Byulyi stood at her door, eyes cast down at her shuffling foot as doubt began to creep in. “I just...I want to know how you feel,” she mumbled. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I...wanna know.”

“Aish, you’re so annoying sometimes.”

A hand wrapped itself around Byulyi’s wrist and tugged her inside. Before she could protest, she felt the warmth of Yongsun against her and the chill of the door against her back. Her eyes widened, but Yongsun’s face was so close that she could barely take it all in. She sucked in a breath that was quickly stolen away by the press of Yongsun’s lips. It was a brief kiss, one look at Yongsun’s flushed face told her that it was only the first of many.

She grinned  like a fool.

“You...made me go through all that just to tell me?” Yongsun said.

She stopped smiling. “I...well…”

“Why didn’t you just tell me? I thought it was obvious I felt the same way.”

“O-obvious?”

“Okay, well...you make me really nervous sometimes, so maybe i t’s not that obvious.”

Yongsun sighed and pulled her back on the couch. It was as if they never left when they sat facing each other from opposite ends. Byulyi wanted nothing more than to cross the couch cushion between them and close the distance, just like she did hours ago, but her burst of courage was short-lived. Yongsun watched her with an undecipherable expression, but it was her who finally broke the silence: “Do you still want to write a book?”

“I…” She shook her head. “I wanted to write you a story, so I could convey my feelings properly, but the more we talked about it, the more abstract it felt. I...I don’t want my feelings to be abstract, unnie. I want to be straightforward, at least about this.” She met her eyes for a brief moment before settling them back on the fabric of the couch. “I really like you, unnie.”

The couch dipped, and when she looked up again, Yongsun was inches away, her warm hand burning against her knee. She sighed into the second kiss reflexively, and pulled her closer and closer until she could feel the weight of the older woman on her lap.

“I have to say,” Yongsun said breathlessly, resting a hand on Byulyi’s shoulder, “Barbarian Hyejin is probably the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen. Way more than any symphony you could’ve written me. You should finish that story.”

“Oh? I thought you’d like Idiot Moon.”

“But Barbarian Hyejin is so wild.”

“Unnie!” Byulyi cried, playfully slapping her across the shoulder.

Yongsun laughed, and pressed her palms against Byulyi’s to fend off her blows. “Aigo, I’m kidding.” She pushed her hands out of the way and leaned in. “I guess Idiot Moon is pretty cute too.”

END  

 

 


End file.
